Still Alive in Joburg
by TheGuyWithTheGun
Summary: Three years after the events of District 9, Christopher has still not returned with the salvation of the Poleepkwa. Wikus, living in Sanctuary Park, is losing hope. However, some human sympathizers have decided to take matters into their own hands.
1. Chapter 1 Personal Log

MAY 9th, 2013

1092 DAYS AFTER EXPOSURE

DISTRICT 10 "Sanctuary Park", JOHANNESBURG

Gotta keep writing, gotta save what's left. Getting harder each day, writing in English. Not that I'm forgetting how, but I'm getting more and more used to my prawn hands. They don't work well with human keyboards, I'll tell you. Hard to hide this from MNU, too. Tents are small, no privacy. They come in and inspect the place, sometimes. They think I'm John Richards, the prawn whose shack I'd taken residence in after I'd changed. Poor guy died in Christopher's escape, so I took his place.

Been almost three years, now. In a few months it'll be three years since Chris left, took the mothership with him. Last I saw him he'd make a promise. I'd covered his back, he told me it'd be three years. I've waited three years, and I've seen no sign. In all honesty, I'm losing hope. I don't think I can blame the guy, though. The things I've did, the crimes against his people I committed... but how could he leave his people like this?

Sanctuary Park is okay. It's cleaner than D9, a bit more space. Hard to get supplies, though. Anything here is sold by MNU, and their prices are, of course, awful. Twenty rand for a light bulb? Yeah, and I'm not kidding. I work for MNU, slave day and night in that munitions factory. Then they take my money back just so I can live? Sometimes I think D9 was better; the gang scams even had better prices than this. Not to mention it's pretty much impossible to get a single can of cat food here. You know how much that sucks?

I'm so lonely, right now. Lonely and tired. I miss Tania. Ever since the relocation, I can't leave her any more presents. Can't get out at night, curfews are too strict. Daytime isn't much better. I'm just allowed to leave for work, and I get two and a half hours of personal time after that. You go beyond that, they'll find you, because they installed these new subcutaneous GPS trackers that are just about impossible to remove. Believe me; I've been trying to find a way. My neighbor, Jack Wilson, says he knows a human guy who specializes in things like that, but I think it's too risky. Probably not even worth it.

Jack knows my secret. He was there, during the assault. Fact, he took place in it. He was the guy who pulled off Koobus' left leg. He had it hanging up in his shack for a while, but he had to leave it behind in the relocation. Too bad.

I have to go now, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to post these. They still aren't able to track my IP, but as soon as someone from MNU finds this, I'm gone. For now, I always remain your most human prawn,

W.V.M.


	2. Chapter 2 Other Players

MAY 11th, 2013

"Bongani's Pub", DOWNTOWN JOHANNESBURG

11:20 PM

Munashi Kefilwe sat at the bar, idly spinning his beer. A tall, imposing man with dark skin, he looked to be well into his late thirties. A tattered gray leather coat rested on his shoulders, with a barely noticeable bulge in the region of his armpit. Bongani Tendaj, the bar's owner, glanced up from his duty of washing assorted mugs and shotglasses. It was a small establishment, and help was hard to find, so he mostly ran the place by his lonesome.

"You waiting for someone, Munashi?" asked Bongani.

"Yeah," he glanced at his watch, "should be here any second."

After a few more minutes, the bell hanging above the door rattled. From outside, a figure even more tall and imposing than Munashi entered. Jack Wilson stood for a moment, briefly surveying the bar. When he spotted Munashi, Jack took a seat next to him.

Jack was short for a prawn, but still taller than most humans. His skin was an unusually consistent shade of maroon, with a slight iridescence. He wore extra-long olive drab khakis of which he had no recollection where he procured them.

[Sorry I'm late], the prawn clicked, [work was awful today.]

"I'd imagine as much."

Hearing the clicking tongue of the Poleepkwa refugee, Bogani suddenly turned toward the bar.

"Munashi," he said, pointing at the prawn, "You know I don't serve their kind here."

Munashi reached into his pocket, withdrew an embarrassingly large wad of twenty dollar bills.

"His round's on me."

Bogani pocketed the bills, looking about him nervously. The bar, however, was relatively empty.

Munashi turned to Jack, "Sorry for changing the meeting place, but my shop's been compromised. I had to move out."

[Did they find...]

"No, it's safe. I caught wind of something odd when I got a strangely enthusiastic customer. A human customer."

[That _is_ odd.]

"Long story short, I've got a small establishment in the Central Business District that a few of my boys are setting up. Not as much room for equipment, but it'll have to do."

[If they find what we've hidden, then all this planning will be for naught. And you'll be ruined. Your business will be ruined.]

"It's a risk I'm willing to take, my friend."

Munashi sipped his beer for a moment before smilingly adding,

"Speaking of risk, have you talked to your friend yet?"

[No. I haven't gotten around to it.]

"This concerns him directly. If you don't tell him, he'll find out. You know who he is. Who he used to be."

[I know. I know he's vital, and I'm aware of how he'll react], Jack said, distress thick in his strange speech, [I'll tell him. An when I do, I hope he's ready.]

"For your sake, Jack, he'd better be," Munashi said, smiling, "For the sake of all you prawns."


End file.
